


Guerrilla Romance: Pairings that Marvel Hates

by dytabytes



Category: Deadpool - Fandom, Marvel, X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dytabytes/pseuds/dytabytes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some pairings have unfulfilled potential because people at Marvel hate them. Alas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guerrilla Romance: Pairings that Marvel Hates

**Past.**

Some mornings, the sun would stream in through their bedroom window, lighting the room in such a way that it was impossible to sleep in. On such mornings, Scott would wake up with _far_ too much energy. He'd kneel on the bed, then bounce up onto his toes, raising his hands in the air and dancing. He'd laugh and do the twist, all the while singing half a tone off key.

Jean would grumble and kick a leg out in between her husband's feet. He'd dodge once, twice, thrice, but inevitably he'd let himself stumble and fall down beside her with a loud 'whoof!' of sound. Laughing, he'd roll over to face his wife and grin.

"Good morning sunshine."

"God Scott, it's too early to be up."

Jean would squint up at him and glare, then groggily grunt and pull her pillow over her head.

Scott would just lean over and shake her shoulder, grinning widely.

"But Jean! It's such a beautiful morning! You should _see_ the sun on the lake! It's gorgeous!"

Sometimes Jean would drag herself out of bed, pulling a robe loosely around herself and shuffling out onto the dock to watch the sunrise with her husband. Mostly, though, she'd just burrow deeper under the sheets. At that point, Scott would pull out the big guns.

"Ooooooh, someone's begging for a _tickle_."

He'd would dive for Jean, wiggling his fingers and laughing. She would squeal and squirm away, whacking at him with her pillow. Feathers would fly, sheets would get tangled in arms and legs, and eventually they'd end up rolling around and laughing until they fell off he bed onto the floor.

Panting, Jean would straddle her husband, glaring down at him. Frowning sternly, she'd blow a lock of hair out of her eyes, then shake a finger in her husband's face.

"You are an awful, awful man, Mister Summers."

He would just grin at her and lean back on his arms

"But you love me for it."

Her frown would melt into a smile.

"Unfortunately."

And her hands would slide up his chest and he'd tangle his fingers in her hair and they'd share a languid kiss full of the promise of something more.

Neither of them would get to see the sunrise and neither would mind very much at all.

===

**Present.**

It all started when Wade offered her a box on Valentine's day. She'd been foolish enough to open it without looking at it closely. If she had, she'd have noticed the smell of formaldehyde.

"So... d'you like it, Irish?"

As it was, Terry was proud herself for doing no more than blinking.

"You got me a ... heart?"

As Terry stared at the dark red organ floating in its jar of preservative, Wade grinned and patted his chest.

"Not just any heart! _My heart_. Tore it out an' wrapped it up all pretty with ribbons just for you, Red!"

"_Why_?"

Wade shrugged and looked down, clasping his hands behind his back and kicking the ground with his toe.

"Well, y'know. Figured it'd be romantic and all. Chicks like that right? Because... I like you?"

"I don't even want to think about how much blood you lost pulling that stunt."

"Hey! I didn't do it alone! I had help!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I got Bob to sharpen the cleaver!"

"Which would be why the cuts are so ragged, I take it?"

"Yeah, well, I never said it was _good_ help..."

Terry just shook her head and laughed.

"I don't even know how you managed to make something like this even vaguely romantic, Wade, but somehow you did."

"Yeah? You like it?"

"I ... will treasure it forever, Wade."

"Really?"

"I promise."

===

**Future.**

The sheets were still warm, so he couldn't have left very long ago. Domino smoothed out the rumpled fabric with her hand, collecting herself before kicking her legs over the side of the bed to go find her missing partner.

Goosebumps prickled over her skin as she padded down the hall. It was cold outside of her cocoon of blankets. She didn't really want to go look for a robe, though, so she just rubbed her arms and toughed it out. It wouldn't take long to find Nate, after all. She knew where to find him.

The room itself was dark, but her eyes adjusted swiftly to the shadows. Nate's silhouette was amazingly distinct, hulking and wide and alert even though he was cradling a baby to his chest.

Domino sighed and padded over, hand on her hip.

"I just got her to sleep, you know." She punched Nate in the shoulder and glared up at him. "Did you _have_ to wake her up?"

It was a pointless question because they both knew that men would forever be touching things that they shouldn't be, no matter how much their partners scolded them for it.

Weakly, Cable coughed and murmured, "But she's sleeping."

Domino just rolled her eyes.

"She's not. She's just being quiet." The woman sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Not that you'd be able to tell the difference, idiot that you are."

The baby took that chance to coo a little. She reached out a hand and wrapped it around Nate's thumb, burbling softly. Nate's eyes widened immediately and he flashed a nervous glance at Domino. She just shook her head and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"She's just saying hi, Nate."

He cocked his head to the side, then he chuckled and smiled.

"She's so beautiful, Dom."

Impulsively, Nate reached out a hand and brushed a lock of hair out of Domino's face. He rumbled gruffly.

"So are you." He looked away, embarassed. "In a completely different way, of course, but still. You're beautiful to me, Dom."

Surprised, Domino froze. Nate moved his hand down to clasp hers in his. The solid feeling of his hand wrapped around her own jolted her back. Hesitantly, she tightened her fingers around his own in a silent promise.

They stood there together until the moon rose over the clouds and painted the walls with silver.


End file.
